


One Too Many

by lanalucy



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_kink, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Drunk Sex, F/M, Pseudo-Incest, Secrets, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theme: You Want Me To Do What?!?<br/>Prompt: Kara/Bill - drunken mistake (singerdiva)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Too Many

It had been Zak’s birthday, the first one she’d spent on _Galactica_ after Zak died. Colonel Tigh was on Picon for R &R. If he’d been aboard, it would probably never have happened.

She and the Old Man had been swapping stories about Zak over dinner, and they’d finished the bottle of ambrosia - a drink or two apiece. He’d dug around in the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of the good stuff, stuff he’d been saving for a special occasion he said, and she had no idea how much of _that_ they’d drunk. Actually, she had no idea how any of the rest of it had happened.

They were both sloppy drunk, she was pretty sure, and she’d been about ready to go - the alternative would have been passing out on her dinner plate. He’d stumble-walked her toward the hatch, and she’d turned to hug him. Nowadays, when she hugged him, she was careful, but that time...she’d stood on her toes and pulled up on his shoulders to kiss his cheek. He’d hugged her around the waist with his chin on her shoulder. He’d turned his head, and that...that’s when things changed. 

_He kissed her neck. And since she had, in fact, not gotten laid since Zak died, it felt really frakkin’ good. She heard the moan, and if she were less drunk, she’d probably be embarrassed it was her._

_His arms tightened, one hand on her hip and one on her ass. Strong grip, like Zak. It felt too much like Zak, too normal for her to waste much time reminding herself it was his father, not him._

_He sort of fell toward the hatch, trapping her, and his erection caught her just right, the pressure punching up her arousal enough to mostly turn off her brain. She pushed him away, and he backstepped toward the table. He leaned against it for a moment, then turned her and boosted her up onto it._

_Clearly, he’d done this before, because while she was still muttering in her head about Adamas and their preference for tables, he pulled her pants off and yanked her to the edge. The first stroke was achingly familiar - he seemed confident and sure, like Zak always had. The groan as he sank into her sounded eerily like Zak._

_Should she try to stay in the moment, or pretend he was Zak so later she could forget this had happened? His fingers found her clit and the fast and furious rush toward orgasm overrode that question, and everything else._

_After, she laid on that table, heart pounding against his, wondering what the frak had just happened. He zipped his pants and scooped her up, dropping onto the couch with her half-naked on his lap. He kept saying something, and at first she thought it was ‘Kara,’ but then maybe ‘Caroline’ or ‘Carol Anne?’ Frak. What had Zak said his mother’s name was?_

_Moments later, his breathing deepened into a regular rhythm, and his arms fell away from her. She very carefully crawled off his lap and found her pants. Frak. What had he done with her panties? Never mind. She hurriedly put her pants on commando. She pushed him gently toward the arm of the couch and covered him with the blanket._

_Once that was done, she went into the head to make sure she didn’t look like she’d just been frakked senseless by the Commander, stacked the dishes outside the door, and turned off most of the lights. She still couldn’t find her panties, but there was nothing she could do about that. One last look around and she left, pulling the hatch shut behind her._

She had hit her locker for her kit, showered in the hottest water she could stand, and crawled into her bunk with a bottle. She’d drunk until she passed out, and was still hung over at the briefing the following morning. Dipper’d given her a stern glare, taking her aside after the briefing to tell her she should confine the heavy drinking to nights when she didn’t have an early CAP.

She worked and flew and fought with Tigh, and managed to wipe the night from her memory, just another drunken mistake. Out of the blue, two or three months later, her laundry came back with an extra pair of panties, and she had to think much too hard to remember where they’d come from. She requested R&R, and while she was gone, she frakked a different guy every night, none of them even remotely like either Adama. And when she returned to duty, she made sure she never went more than a week without getting laid.

That drunken mistake was one too many.


End file.
